Like a lot of Great Britain this weekend, we have been celebrating the Queen’s 90th birthday. We have seen the Trooping of the Colour, the brilliant fly past, the Patrons Picnic, the parade and we have even had our own picnic. Our village held its own Picnic in the Park, open for everyone to go along to with their own blankets and hampers.
Sunday morning arrived and I set to work creating a spectacular picnic – sandwiches, carrot sticks, tomatoes on the vine, cucumber sticks, flasks of tea, bottles of pop (just thought; I should have got lashings of ginger beer and some exploding Pop biscuits just like Jo, Bessie and Fanny in The Magic Faraway Tree!), jelly, scones, jam, crisps, chocolate biscuits and pink wafer biscuits (my fav!).
I dug out my Cora Taylor (cheap version of Cath Kidston!) picnic bag that I bought from Book People selection of goodies at work, found the plastic frozen block to keep the food cool and my British Bunting scene ‘bag for life’ and filled them with the multitude of Tupperware containers and Chinese takeaway tubs all bursting with edible delights.
By now the rest of the family had emerged from their beds, dressed, completed homework and fed any pets that looked like they needed feeding. My turn for a shower and to dress.
Upon my downstairs return I heard a strange noise – a bit like gentle low-level white noise. Funny, I thought to myself, the radio must have lost its signal. As I went to close the back door I saw it. Thick mizzle (mist and drizzle – it’s a West Country technical weathering term don’t y’know!). I’d just bothered to wash, dry and straighten my hair – something which since the birth of Bubs 10 weeks ago I hadn’t bother with. (Please know that I had washed myself and my hair just not really bothered/had time for the drier or the GHD’s! – Don’t want you thinking I’m all stinky and greasy haired!) Now, it was only Mizzle – not the end of the world, and certainly not enough to put me off a picnic. But then…..down it came! Stair rods! Rain so heavy I couldn’t see our patio. Rain so fat that it bounced off the wooden garden table with such force I swear it was returning to the cloud from whence it came, to enjoy falling all over again!
Picnic in the Park became Picnic inside!
Not to worry, we all had a fab time! I linked up my phone to the DAB speaker using some magical transmitting atmosphere called Blue Tooth (get me and my technical competence!) and we ate our picnic at the table whilst listening to Last Night at the Proms, the Royal Firework Music, Land of Hope and Glory aka Land of Soap and Water; loved my Nan singing me that version when I was little…
“Land of soap and water
Mother’s washing her feet
Father’s cutting his toenails
Baby’s eating his meat”
and Dame Vera Lynne. And do you know what? It was bloody lovely! All my newly increased in size little family, dressed in our assortments of red, white and blue clothes (got a gorgeous dress for Bubs from George at Asda!) gathered, eating, laughing, chatting and singing along to the tunes! Life is good!
The rain soon cleared and so we ventured forth to the park with rain macs stuffed in the buggy’s under carriage (Sorry, just had a Miranda look-to-camera moment…under carriage! UNDER carriage! Saucy!) and as we stepped out of the house…we only got our own personal bloomin’ fly past from the amazing Red Arrows (en route to a nearby Air Show!)!!! The air on the back of my neck went all tingly – it always does when we see The Red Arrows – an amazing aerial display team. (One year at Regatta I delightedly bumped into the whole display team of dashing young pilots at the pub! They had ‘parked up’ their planes at the Naval College and headed into the town! Swoon! No – I did not curtsey Miranda style!) Next we saw four Yakovlevs whoooosh past above our heads and finally, up at the park -which we heard before we saw-the lung shaking, rib rattling awesomeness of the Typhoon!
Whoever said rain stops play! Not me! Hip Hip….you know the rest!
The Aloha Mummy 🌸